In My Office Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

The office Desk.
The office desk made of solid oak
And the top was shiny as an ice-rink before showtime.
It is not shiny no more, coffee stains and drops of mysterious
Substances, could it be wine?
This desk was once where a judge sat condemning people
To hang if they didn't conform to the politics of
The dictatorship spoke about democracy and other words
Of treason.
The drawers on the desk are full of unpublished manuscripts
And will be so forever, after all, they have had the distinction
Of being written, what more is there to ask?